


Healing

by ceruleanshark



Series: Dark Lords of Arda [12]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 14:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13366212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleanshark/pseuds/ceruleanshark
Summary: Mairon returns from Tol-in-Gaurhoth bearing bad news.





	Healing

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was so hard to write. Melkor's dialogue was the Actual Worst. This might not be super canon compliant but hopefully it still works.

Wingbeats, increasingly erratic, sliced through the dry air of Angband. Melkor looked up from where he was reclined on a soft couch and turned to the open window of his bedchamber, recognizing the large bat hurtling towards the archway. It was a form Mairon used on occasion. Melkor could sense the presence of his Maia as a warm and reassuring pressure against his consciousness.

He inhaled sharply when Mairon fluttered clumsily through the window, wings beating against the stone arch. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

The bat fell to the floor and its form glowed brightly before smoothly morphing into the shape of a redheaded man. Mairon stumbled to his knees and tried to stand, legs shaking and golden eyes flickering between flares of light and a terrible dull color.

Melkor tensed when he saw the blood pouring down Mairon's front from his throat, crimson liquid staining his robes and pooling at his feet. The Maia swayed on the spot and tried to say something, but only managed a weak choking noise. A bubble of blood burst at his lips, smearing on his ashen face.

“Mairon! What happened?” Melkor spoke urgently. When Mairon opened his mouth to speak, more blood spilled from his lips, prompting Melkor to hastily shake his head. “Wait, do not answer me yet. Come here.”

Mairon took two steps forward and collapsed. Melkor's quick reflexes allowed him to catch his Maia before he hit the stone floor. The Vala flinched as his boots came into contact with the sticky crimson pool on the floor. Resting his fingers on the side of Mairon's face, he let his power flow into his body, holding back any further damage.

Melkor scooped him up easily and carried him out of the chamber and through the halls of Angband, Mairon twitching weakly in his arms. Passing orcs stared openly as Melkor hurried through the corridors with the wounded Lieutenant held close to his chest. Mairon's blood spilled onto Melkor's black robes, soaking into the fabric.

The Vala burst into the infirmary, using his mind to open the doors so he didn't have to slow. “The Lieutenant is injured.” He rumbled, trying to avoid seeming panicked. Mairon could not be killed, but he could be damaged. Melkor refused to allow his Maia to suffer further.

“We'll get to work on him.” One of the orcs, a healer, hurried over to Melkor. Mairon groaned faintly and tried to lift his head. Melkor stroked the red hair soothingly as the healers scrambled to prepare the infirmary.

“Hush, Precious. You can tell me what happened later. Lie still now, I will ensure that you recover.” Melkor whispered, easily cradling Mairon close. The Maia fell limp once more, head tucked against his master's chest.

“Tol-in-Gaurhoth is lost. I was defeated, I’m sorry, Master. I should have been better--” Melkor laid a finger over his bloodied lips, quieting him. “What matters now is your safety, little flame. We can discuss this later.” 

Melkor sent more magical energy flowing through Mairon's shaking body. The Vala was not skilled at the art of healing, but he would do anything to help his lieutenant and lover.

Mairon inhaled sharply at the feeling, then groaned in relief. A group of healers rounded the corner and approached their lords. One stepped forward to look up at Melkor, avoiding the dark gaze.

“My lord, we can take him now. You will be informed of any changes in his condition.” The orc spoke hesitantly, as if he was afraid to address the couple. Melkor nodded slowly and let the team of healers take Mairon from him, trying not to cringe at the wet sound of Mairon’s head and neck leaving his broad chest.

Melkor wandered the fortress aimlessly for many an hour, not bothering to change out of his bloodstained garments. He was used to wounds and the sight of torment, but still he hated Mairon being wounded. He knew Mairon would not die of this injury, but that hardly lessened his worry. Curiosity over how this had come to be gnawed at him; surely another Ainu must have attacked him. No mortal could be strong enough to have reduced the Lieutenant of Angband to this.

 

Melkor didn't know how much time passed before he was summoned to the infirmary once more. He tried not to show emotion as he was led to the room where Mairon was resting. Losing Tol-in-Gaurhoth angered him greatly, but he knew he couldn't direct that rage at Mairon. It was almost certainly not his fault, some trickery must have been involved. 

As soon as the Vala closed the door behind him, Mairon began to struggle to sit up. His throat was bandaged and he was dressed in a plain gray tunic. Some of the color had returned to his cheeks.

“Master, I'm sorry.” He whispered, voice rough and quiet. It sounded like he was speaking through a mouthful of gravel. Melkor sat carefully on the mattress beside the Maia, almost hesitantly touching his hand. “Precious, tell me what happened. But rest assured I am not angry with you.”

Mairon lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, assuming his normal stance for report giving. “There was an elf, the princess of Doriath. She and a hound--perhaps one of Orome’s Maiar--appeared at my fortress.” Mairon broke off, coughing. 

Melkor rubbed his back through the thin tunic, massaging in small circles. Mairon managed to continue speaking, head still held high. 

“The elf managed to blind me long enough for the hound to challenge me. It was upon me before I could fight back with my full power.” Mairon folded his arms over his chest, hair falling around his face in a tangled red curtain.

“The elf wrested control of the isle's magic from me. She took one of my prisoners from me and made her escape. I was forced to surrender and flee, or I would have been left without a body.” Mairon was shaking visibly, jaw set. Melkor frowned. “I am glad you managed to return to me, little flame. I have long anticipated our reunion, though I had hoped for better circumstances.”

“I failed you. I shall do better next time, and I apologize.” Mairon said, voice flat. Melkor’s brow furrowed and he drew the covers up over Mairon's shoulders. “I am saddened by the loss of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, but you are what matters the most. We will send forces to reclaim the isle. As long as I have you by my side, then we will emerge victorious. My most faithful, trusted lieutenant. My precious.”

Melkor pressed a lingering kiss to Mairon's forehead after he finished speaking. Mairon took a deep breath, sighed, and leaned into Melkor's touch. “As long as my mistakes are corrected. You are not angry with me, I hope?”

When Melkor hesitated, Mairon bowed his head. “If you are, it is well-placed anger. I surrendered. It was cowardly.”

Melkor sighed. “I am angry not at you, but for you. I wish to see those who harmed you punished for their deeds. You were forced to surrender, you did not do it out of your own cowardice.” 

Melkor stood up, drawing himself to his full height. “Meet me in our chambers whenever you wish it, precious. I will see that your needs are attended to.”

Mairon managed a smile, despite the persistent pain in his neck and the ache that encompassed his entire body. “I'll be there shortly, my lord.” He stretched out on the bed as Melkor nodded and swept out of the room.

 

A short while later, Mairon pushed open the wooden door to the chambers he shared with his lord. Blinking at the dim firelight within, he made his way over to where Melkor sat on a large couch in front of the fireplace. He looked up as Mairon entered the room, the Maia still a little unsteady from his experience at the isle.

Mairon padded over to the couch and wordlessly curled up with his head on Melkor's broad chest, hair splaying across the Vala’s dark robe. Melkor pulled a thick quilt up over Mairon, holding him closer.Melkor could never get enough of holding Mairon. Even though the fire provided plenty of warmth to the room and Mairon radiated heat, Melkor could never bring himself to care.

“Thank you for forgiving me, my lord.” Mairon whispered into his shoulder, still clearly angry at himself over having suffered such a spectacular loss. Melkor ran one hand through his hair. “Hush, Mairon. There is nothing to forgive. You were defeated, true, but we will take back the isle. Worry not, little flame.”

“I should still thank you for allowing me to work under you, free from any rules but my own. You are too good to me.” Mairon stared almost moodily into the dancing flames as he spoke. Melkor chuckled and continued stroking the crimson hair. “On the contrary, I find you most deserving of proper treatment. You are the most beautiful of all the treasures of this world. Your spirit burns without equal. No one is more deserving of being my lieutenant.”

Mairon flushed slightly at his words. “I love you, my lord.” He said, voice still rough from his injury. Melkor kissed him briefly and cupped his cheek with one hand. “It's Melkor.” He corrected.

Mairon smiled drowsily. “Melkor.” He repeated, relaxing fully under his touch. Melkor beamed at the sound of his given name, so rarely used in the current age. The elves and other Ainur had different names for him now, and his allies always called him by his titles instead.

“I love you, Melkor.” Mairon whispered into his chest. Melkor gave him a gentle smile--a rarity from the Lord of Angband. Such displays of affection were reserved solely for Mairon. “I love you as well, Mairon.”

Melkor was powerful and merciless, but to Mairon he was loving and tender. The strongest Vala treated Mairon, once a mere forge Maia, like he was the most wonderful thing to walk the face of Arda. It made the lieutenant feel heady with power.

“I would ask one thing of you.” Mairon looked up at Melkor with slitted golden eyes. Melkor cocked his head, urging Mairon to continue.

“Let me make the elf and the hound suffer. I want to personally make them pay for taking my fortress and daring to challenge my authority.” Mairon couldn't keep the edge out of his voice, his eyes flaring with light.

Melkor chuckled. “Of course. I would expect no less of you.” He moved to kiss Mairon softly. “I am proud of you, you have come so far.” His voice was deep as they broke apart. Mairon smiled lazily at the praise. “Only thanks to you.”

Melkor looked around their quarters, glad to note that Mairon's blood had been completely removed from the stone floor, leaving it spotless. Cold wind blew through the archways, but Melkor just pulled Mairon closer, the Maia’s heat keeping the chill away.

“Let me help with their torment, Mairon. They hurt the most admirable lieutenant in this world, and for that they must suffer.” Melkor rumbled. Mairon nodded once, a shiver running down his spine at the praise. “I look forward to it. Once they are captured, they will wish they had never dared challenge me.” Mairon said, voice calm.

Melkor nodded his agreement. “One day, Arda will kneel before us. And it will be thanks to you, my precious.” He whispered, lips brushing the top of Mairon's head. Mairon smiled against his chest. “I cannot wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone liked it! Comments always help <3


End file.
